


Howl

by avoidingavoidance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, lance is his loving (and very thirsty) human boyfriend, shiro's a werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 00:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/pseuds/avoidingavoidance
Summary: Shiro always gets restless on the day of the full moon, and Lance is always happy to help.





	Howl

Shiro is antsy.

Lance doesn’t even need to be home to know it, either. He knows perfectly well what day it is, even without the scheduled reminder popping up on his phone, the notification reading only ‘o.’ He’s become almost as attuned to it as Shiro, which makes sense, given how long they’ve been together. He’s a little restless himself, his eyes finding the clock more often than not, idly counting hours until he can leave work and head home to his boyfriend, who’s probably pacing holes in the carpet, his whole body bristling with energy.

After all, tonight is a full moon.

Shiro always gets like this the day of the full moon. It’s a pretty common physiology thing amongst werewolves, and something Lance is more than used to handling in their own way. Something he looks forward to, even, so much so that the hours at his desk seem to tick by like molasses. 

When he’s finally free, he pays just enough attention to his commute home to make it safely, despite his rising impatience. He opens the door, fidgety with excitement, and even though Shiro already knows, Lance calls, “I’m home!”

Before the words have even left his mouth, Shiro’s poking his head around the doorway to their living room, a wide smile on his face. “Hey! Welcome home.”

Sometimes Lance sincerely wishes that part of the whole werewolf thing included puppy ears and a fluffy tail, because with as happy as Shiro looks right now, if he had a tail, it’d be wagging like crazy. Lance grins and drops his bag, sidling into the living room, making a point of brushing past Shiro with far more physical contact than is strictly necessary. “Hope you weren’t too bored today. Sorry I couldn’t get the day off.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, running his hand down Lance’s back as he passes. “I did all the laundry.”

At that, Lance turns, raising his eyebrows in mild concern. “All the laundry?”

“ _All_ the laundry,” Shiro replies, his tone playfully grim. “Even the stuff in the closet.”

“Jesus.” Lance turns and glances at the couch, which is indeed still covered in half-folded laundry. “And you’re still not done?”

“This is the last of it.” With a soft laugh, Shiro reaches out and pulls Lance back against his chest, nuzzling into the back of his boyfriend’s head. Lance hums and tilts his head aside, reaching back to drag his fingers through Shiro’s soft white hair. Shiro rumbles at the feeling, snuggling closer and pressing his lips against the crook of Lance’s shoulder, idly sliding his palms along Lance’s stomach. “Mm, you smell nice.”

Lance has to laugh at that. “Yeah right,” he snorts, turning in Shiro’s arms so he can raise a disbelieving eyebrow. “I’ve been at work all day, I probably smell like an office supply store.”

“You say that as if it’s unappealing.”

“Wow, nerd,” Lance snickers. He leans up for a soft, sweet kiss, a thrill running through him at the way Shiro hums against him, pulling him closer and tilting into his lips. Before they can get too carried away, though, Lance nips at Shiro’s bottom lip, then carefully extricates himself from his hold. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower, okay?”

Shiro’s already pouting, but before he can say anything and most likely convince him to skip it, Lance laughs and covers his boyfriend’s mouth. “Don’t give me that face, puppy, it’ll be like ten minutes.”

Weak as always to Lance’s pet names, Shiro sighs, but lets out a muffled, “Alright.”

Lance grins at him, moving his hand to pet idly down Shiro’s chest. “It’ll give you time to finish folding laundry, how about that?”

Shiro, the giant dork, actually perks up at that, but Lance isn’t surprised. Shiro gets so damn restless this time of the month, any excuse to keep his body moving is probably enough to excite him, even if folding laundry isn’t exactly as fun as the other options he has now that Lance is home from work. With another warm kiss, Shiro lets Lance move away toward the bathroom.

On his way there, Lance slips into the bedroom for a few extra things, a secretive little smile curling the corners of his lips.

\--

True to his word, Lance keeps his shower short, mostly for his own sake, no matter how much he tells himself it’s to keep his boyfriend from getting impatient. He pulls on one of Shiro’s shirts and a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with underwear, then heads to where he can hear Shiro rustling around in the kitchen.

“See, told you it’d be quick,” he says by way of greeting, giving Shiro a wide, crooked smile when the man pulls himself out of the bottom of the pantry, that imaginary tail of his wagging again. Lance rests one hand on his hip and quirks an eyebrow down at him. “Are you really rearranging the pantry _again_?”

Shiro laughs at that, rubbing the back of his neck and flushing slightly. “Yeah, yeah... just trying to keep busy.”

Lance hums and moves closer, trailing his fingers through Shiro’s hair. “We should really get you an in-home gym or something. Give you some room to work out all this energy.” 

The smile Shiro gives him is familiar to Lance by now; it’s the same adorable, shy smile he gets every time Lance brings up something like this, either finding Shiro a nice basement or maybe a good-sized yard, or any other solution to Shiro’s moon-related energy problems. Nearly all of his solutions would involve them buying a whole ass house together, and while those words specifically haven’t come up, that knowledge isn’t lost on either of them.

That’s for another time, though. 

For now, Shiro finishes whatever he was doing on the bottom shelf, then stands and turns to Lance, eagerly pulling him close. “So, anything else you need to do, or can I keep you for the evening?”

Lance feigns thought, tapping his chin ponderously. “Hmm, let’s see...” He can’t keep up the facade for long, though, not with how much he’s been looking forward to this all day. Winding his arms around Shiro’s neck, Lance leans into him and purrs, “Nope, my schedule’s clear.”

Shiro breathes a pleased rumble and ducks to nudge his nose against the line of Lance’s jaw, urging him to tilt his head back. The heat of his breath, of his soft lips as he drags lazy kisses down his throat has Lance shivering, clinging tighter to Shiro and letting the man gather him closer. Shiro gets to him so easily, but he’s so gentle, so tender Lance has never had any problem giving himself over to him. 

“Love the way you look in my clothes,” Shiro huffs, drawing Lance out of his head a little. His hands have wandered under the loose t-shirt draped over Lance’s chest, pushing baggy fabric out of the way so he can drag his palms over soft, dark skin.

Lance chuckles and arches closer, the slip of his thigh between Shiro’s entirely casual, but just as purposeful. “That’s why I wear them.”

Shiro laughs at that, already a little breathless, which is almost enough to distract Lance from his teasing. “Love the way you look in pretty much anything. Doesn’t have to be mine.”

Oh, too easy.

Humming warmly, Lance rubs his thigh against the growing bulge of Shiro’s cock, doing his best not to be distracted by how much he’s getting to Shiro already. “Hmm, what about how I look in nothing at all?” Shiro growls low in his throat at that, gently sinking his teeth into the crook of Lance’s neck, but before he can reply, Lance laughs, “Then again, I suppose nothing at all still counts as _yours._ ”

Shiro freezes at that, his hands squeezing Lance’s hips, but before long those hands are diving down into Lance’s pants, gripping his bare ass tight and hoisting him up. Lance is used to Shiro’s strength, even when the moon is close, but he still squeaks out a laugh and wraps his legs around Shiro’s hips. 

Turning quickly, Shiro sets Lance down on the kitchen table, and not for the first time, Lance is damn happy he bought such a sturdy table. Shiro leans into him, his lips hot, needy on his throat as he presses him back and splays him out over the table, already rutting his hips against Lance’s ass and earning himself a few little moans at the feeling. “Fuck, Lance,” he finally manages, his voice low, rough with arousal, so damn easy to rile up when he’s this antsy. “D’you know what you do to me, baby?”

Lance chuckles, but another firm grind of Shiro’s hips has his breath catching. “M-maybe I do,” he sighs, unconcerned for the tremble to his voice. “Does it have anything to do with the roll of quarters in your pocket?”

Shiro huffs at that, low and amused, before he pulls back just enough to slide his hands under Lance’s shirt, thumbing gently at his nipples. He nuzzles against Lance’s cheek, so pleased with the warm press of their bodies, before he apparently decides that Lance is terribly overdressed. He stands up and insistently tugs the shirt off of him, carelessly tossing it aside as he leans down to lave his tongue over one of Lance’s nipples, teasing just enough with his teeth to have Lance gasping.

“Want you so bad,” Shiro mumbles, his voice tight like he’s struggling to contain himself, which just won’t do for Lance. 

“You’ve got me, love,” Lance replies easily, carding his fingers through Shiro’s hair. “I’m right here.”

Shiro presses another hot, wet kiss to the center of Lance’s chest, then surges up to catch his lips again, his needy energy coming off him in waves. It only encourages Lance, though, leaving him leaning up into that kiss, tangling their tongues with a low moan as he tugs on Shiro’s hair. 

Seemingly without noticing, as they kiss, Shiro grinds his hips closer, moving in hard, insistent thrusts that have his cock dragging all along the join of Lance’s thighs through their pants. It’s still way too much separation for Lance, who’s already so damn eager to have Shiro inside him. He pulls away just enough to grin up at his boyfriend, eating up how flushed, how disheveled Shiro looks already, how dark his eyes are when he blinks down at him in question.

Lance grins widely, sticking his tongue out between his teeth as he shuffles closer to the edge of the table, hooking his thumbs in his loose sweats and tugging them down just a little. Shiro’s gaze flies down to the sharp points of his hips, his lips parting around a heated exhale as he watches Lance dip his fingers into his pocket and pull out a short strip of condoms. 

Shiro’s hands tighten on Lance’s hips, his thumbs pressing into his waist encouragingly, but it seems he’s more impatient than he’d been letting on, because before Lance can play with him any longer, Shiro leans in for another kiss, licking between his lips with a shaky moan. Lance curls into him, dropping the condoms on the table and resting his hands on Shiro’s face. Between kisses, Shiro rumbles his name, before he pulls back to nudge his nose against Lance’s and whisper, “Please, baby? You’re so pretty, I’ll be so good to you, I promise, just—”

As affected as Lance always is by the way Shiro begs when he gets like this, he licks his lips and grins, proud of himself for being one step ahead this time.

He manages to finish wrangling his pants off without having to move Shiro, and once he’s naked under him, he spreads his legs wide and grabs one of Shiro’s hands. He gently peels his boyfriend’s fingers away from his warm skin, then guides them down between his thighs, and when he presses them against the plug already buried inside him, he can _see_ Shiro losing his cool.

Shiro stands up suddenly, staring between them at the plug, and Lance might be shy about it if he wasn’t so goddamn turned on. 

“ _Lance,_ ” Shiro chokes out, all but vibrating with badly contained energy, his cock visibly twitching in his pants. 

“Wanted to be ready for you,” Lance sighs, drawing his boyfriend’s dark gaze again. He bites his lip and grins, tugging pointedly at the shirt Shiro’s had on for far too long. 

There’s a brief sound of seams tearing as Shiro hauls his shirt off and drops it, but neither of them pay it much mind. Honestly, the shirt’s just lucky it didn’t get torn in half. Shiro manages to unfasten his pants with shaky fingers, but before he can even pull them down, he’s already leaning down into Lance again, kissing him deliriously and rutting his hips against Lance’s ass. There’s nothing but the thin fabric of Shiro’s boxers between them now, already soaked through with his precome, and as much as Lance likes the feeling of Shiro like this, his boyfriend’s impatience only serves to fuel his own.

As he’s reaching down and fisting his hands in Shiro’s underwear, the man moans against him, unable to keep his hands or his hips still. “Lance, fuck,” he gasps, eagerly tugging Lance’s hips back against his, guiding him into a long, filthy grind that has Lance’s eyelids fluttering. “Please, can I, baby? I—I need—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance manages, blinking his eyes open just to take in the flushed, desperate look on his boyfriend’s face. Shiro looks so _undone,_ it sends a rush of heat all through Lance, spurring him to action. He pulls on Shiro’s underwear again, shoving it down his hips along with his pants, just far enough for his aching arousal to pop out. It’s flushed and heavy and dripping so perfectly, Lance feels his mouth watering. 

Before he can tear his gaze away from Shiro’s cock, the man’s reaching between them, soothing his shaking fingers over the base of the plug. Shiro groans again, then sets to easing the plug out of him, making relatively quick work of it and dropping it on the table. 

Lance watches Shiro eagerly as he shakily rips one of the condoms open and rolls it down over his cock, his flushed lips parted around his panting breath, his eyes so dark, so hazy with arousal it has Lance squirming. “C’mon, Shiro,” Lance gasps, hooking his thighs around Shiro’s waist and pulling him closer, which is thankfully all the encouragement the man needs.

With the generous amount of lube Lance had used preparing himself and how badly he wants this, the first slow slide of Shiro’s cock inside him is smooth and easy, just as tight a fit as always. Lance’s spine arches away from the table, his hands clutching Shiro’s strong biceps as the man works himself deeper in gentle, shaky thrusts, whispering breathless encouragement until Shiro’s bottomed out, grinding into him just to get that little bit closer. 

Shiro closes his eyes and moans for him, then leans over him on his elbows, burying his face in Lance’s throat. Lance can feel Shiro’s teeth dragging along sensitive skin as he parts his lips and gasps, his fingers finding Shiro’s broad shoulders and clinging. Shiro’s always a biter, but right now his canines are longer, sharper, and the way the tips feel against his vulnerable pulse has Lance keening, tilting his head back further, offering himself up to him.

Any other day of the month, Shiro would wait a moment, both to collect himself and to let Lance adjust (or, more often than not, drive him a little crazy). Today’s the full moon, though, and even now that he’s sheathed in Lance’s tight heat, Shiro’s still just about vibrating with restless energy.

Lance doesn’t even have to beg to get Shiro to move. Barely a breath passes before Shiro’s pulling his hips back slightly, then rocking forward again, breathing a low, rumbling groan against Lance’s neck. When Lance arches up after him with a breathless whimper, Shiro huffs, then adjusts his stance and pulls back further, and when he snaps his hips home again with a ragged hum, Lance clings to him and gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.

The rhythm Shiro sets, slow and rough and deep, has Lance seeing stars already. Shiro feels so good inside him, hot and so damn hard, and the feeling of him above him, strong and already dripping sweat, desperate for contact just makes Lance want to give him more, to give him _everything._

Those sharp, sharp teeth drag down the line of his throat again, and Lance _wants,_ so fucking badly.

Rather than lose himself to that thought, though, Lance shakes himself slightly and fists his hand in Shiro’s hair, tugging just hard enough to have the man whining for him. “C’mon, Shiro,” he gasps, his other hand drawing bright red lines down Shiro’s shoulder. “Fuck me like you mean it, come on—”

Shiro interrupts him with a low growl, exhaling sharply and grinding deep. It might be playing with fire to challenge a werewolf only hours before moonrise, but Lance has never felt anything but safe in Shiro’s arms, no matter what form they take.

Rising to the bait, Shiro shifts his footing, then picks up his pace, throwing his weight into his thrusts in a way that knocks the breath right out of Lance’s lungs. The table creaks under them, knocking against the wall, but neither of them have room in their brains to pay it any mind. Lance is too focused on how _good_ Shiro feels fucking into him like this, his boundless, needy energy, his desperation so apparent Lance can almost taste it, electric in the heated air between them. He moans for him, wrapped tight around him and whispering breathless encouragement where he can find the words, and for every overwhelmed sound Shiro fucks out of him, the man responds in kind, fragmented, nonsensical praise muffled against sweat-slick skin.

“F-fuck, Lance,” Shiro manages after a long moment, his hips stuttering to a halt inside him. Lance blinks his eyes open just in time to see Shiro lean up out of his neck, his eyes almost black with pleasure, verging on feral. Lance shivers and squeezes around Shiro, who bites his lip and bucks into him. “I wanna...”

Rather than finish his thought, Shiro breathes a frustrated huff, then pulls out of Lance, who whines his protest. Shiro hums soothingly, though, before standing up straight and tugging Lance toward him. Lance goes pliant for him, letting his boyfriend turn him over and leave him bent over the table. He throws a sharp, teasing grin over his shoulder, wiggling his ass invitingly, but when Shiro leans down and presses all against him, his teeth catching Lance’s ear, all he can do is melt for him.

As he shifts his hips, then rocks back into him, Shiro breathes a deep, trembling moan of his name, the sound alone enough to leave Lance’s knees weak. Shiro bottoms out quickly, though, then wraps his arms around Lance’s waist, dragging him back onto his cock as he grinds in deep, and the feeling has Lance dropping his forehead to the table and whining.

This position gives Shiro a little more freedom to move, which he takes advantage of easily; when he starts moving again, he moves his hips in deep, rough thrusts, the heavy curve of his thick cock dragging inside Lance in all the best possible places, leaving him brainless and gasping.

“Like that, baby?” Shiro rumbles, his breath heavy against Lance’s pulse. He barely gives Lance room to even think about replying, though. His pace has gone hard and needy, stirring up some deep, frantic animal instinct in Lance, something that only begs for more, harder, faster. He can feel his own cock dripping, his legs shaking so badly he can barely hold himself up, but goddamn if this isn’t exactly what he’s been craving all day.

Lance finally manages to nod in response, panting hot against the surface of the table, loving the way Shiro’s weight holds him against it. “F-feels so good, Shiro, _fuck,_ ” he gasps, wriggling one of his arms loose so he can reach back and flatten his hand against the nape of Shiro’s neck. 

He traces his thumb gently over the old scars he finds there, echoes of cruel fangs long since left behind, but Shiro only moans at the touch, his insistent hands pulling Lance back into his lap. 

As if sensing the way Lance’s mind is starting to wander, Shiro huffs a low sigh of his name, then pulls one of his hands away and hooks it under one of Lance’s trembling thighs. He squeezes gently before hoisting Lance’s knee up until he can push it up onto the table, taking welcome advantage of Lance’s generous flexibility. The change in position leaves Lance spread open so much wider, letting Shiro fuck him impossibly deeper, and like this, his cock feels so damn good that Lance can’t help but cry out for him. 

He can’t find his words anymore to beg for more, too caught up in the feeling of Shiro overwhelming him, all but _claiming_ him, but his eager, desperate moans seem to encourage his boyfriend well enough. As Shiro starts moving harder, faster, pounding his cock in deep and groaning when Lance squeezes tight around him, all Lance can really do is try to hold on.

Shiro’s fucking him so perfectly, hitting him just right, just hard enough that even Lance couldn’t possibly be distracted from it. His hands scrabble against the table as he wails for him, searching desperately for something to ground himself, and of course, even like this, sweet, perfect Shiro notices. He slips his hand up Lance’s thigh, and once he’s satisfied that his knee won’t slip, he reaches up and twines his fingers with Lance’s, squeezing gently.

The gesture is so loving, so tender in contrast to the unrestrained way Shiro’s fucking him that Lance can’t help but whine, his eyes rolling closed. Shiro moans against him, dragging hot, wet kisses along the crook of Lance’s shoulder, the feeling a perfect complement to how _full_ Lance is, how good Shiro feels spreading him open, stuffing him full with every hard thrust. The way Shiro nuzzles into him, brainless and affectionate, just makes Lance want to melt for him, to be so damn good for him, leave him shaking and satisfied. He squeezes tight around him, hoping to get that message across, and the feeling has Shiro grinding into him and stuttering out a breathless moan, his hands tightening on his hip, around his fingers.

Before Lance can collect himself at all, Shiro’s picking up his pace again, but this time his thrusts are frantic, wild, and all Lance can do is cry out at how _perfect_ it is, how much he loves the way Shiro feels when he’s seeking pleasure so desperately.

It’s still Shiro, though, kind, sweet, giving Shiro, so even as he’s climbing higher, finding relief in the tight clutch of Lance’s body, he slips his hand down from Lance’s hip and wraps his fingers around his soaked arousal. He squeezes gently, then starts stroking him, touching him exactly the way he likes it. Lance sobs at the feeling, his thighs quaking, near collapsing with pleasure, but before he can slip, Shiro squeezes his hand again, then pulls that arm back down to wrap around Lance’s waist, holding him up like he doesn’t weigh anything at all.

Between Shiro’s rough, needy thrusts and the slow, firm strokes of his hand, Lance can barely keep his head on straight, let alone bite down his moans. He could muffle himself with his hands, but he's not too lost to pleasure to notice the way Shiro’s hips buck sharply every time he cries out for him, every time he manages a stuttering plea for more. 

So as Shiro fucks him higher, Lance gets louder, and to his delight, Shiro whines in reply, his own noises coming faster, quieter and deeper than Lance’s but no less needy.

Spurred on by those sweet sounds, Lance gasps his boyfriend’s name, rocking back into his hips and squeezing tight around him. He thrusts forward into Shiro’s hand, too, those thick, warm fingers dripping and sloppy with Lance’s precome, letting his head fall forward against the table again, his eyes squeezed shut tight. He’s getting so close, squirming in Shiro’s arms, moaning his name louder and louder as the tension builds inside him, that familiar ache growing more and more insistent, taken higher and higher by his boyfriend’s frantic rhythm, until finally, in a thunderous rush, Lance feels himself fall.

His ears ring with how _hard_ he comes, his voice loud, breathless, wailing Shiro’s name until he can’t find the brain power even for that. Shiro fucks him through it, pressing beautiful, desperate moans against Lance’s pulse at how good he must feel, keeping the same pace that sent him over to begin with, just to draw him that much higher.

Just as Lance is starting to come down, his body aching, tingling and sparking with pleasure, hips twitching, he hears a low, rumbling, _inhuman_ growl, feels it vibrate from deep in Shiro’s chest, the sensation nearly overwhelming. 

Lance melts under him, then arches back into Shiro’s lap with a happy, appreciative purr, hoping for more of those ragged sounds. What he gets instead is just as good, and much, much sweeter; Shiro ruts deep and grinds into him, barely letting himself pull out an inch with every thrust as he comes inside him, the whole time breathing out these gorgeous whimpers, overwhelmed, cracked little sounds of almost shocked pleasure, like he’s never felt anything better.

Those sounds go right to Lance’s head, leaving him boneless and grinning against the table, gasping for air. Shiro’s orgasm draws out longer than usual, driven higher by how tense, how needy he’s been all day, by how worked up he gets the day of the full moon, but Lance doesn’t mind it in the least.

After a long moment, Shiro’s hips come to a stop, his shaking arms wrapping around Lance’s waist, more to cling to him than anything else. As he’s burying his face in Lance’s shoulder, his brain obviously still in pieces, Lance feels Shiro’s lips part, the tips of his fangs drawing along sweat-slick skin, and Lance can’t help but tremble, too sensitive after his orgasm to not feel that in near-excruciating detail.

Shiro gathers himself relatively quickly, though, at least enough to pull back and replace those teeth with a soft, lazy kiss. 

Before Lance can ask, Shiro shakes his head and mumbles, “Not yet.”

Lance resists the urge to pout. He understands, after all, knows that Shiro has reservations about turning him, no matter how openly Lance displays his willingness. Instead, he hums softly and pulls his knee down off the table, then reaches back to comb his fingers through Shiro’s soft white hair.

The feeling draws another one of those growls out of his boyfriend, the sound sending a thrill of arousal all through him. Shiro’s still buried inside of him, so he clearly feels the interested twitch of his cock. Rather than explore that, though, Lance glances up at the clock on the stove, noting with no small amount of dismay that it’s getting late. “Almost time, puppy,” he sighs, tugging gently on Shiro’s hair.

Shiro grumbles softly, nudging his nose behind Lance’s ear, and huffs, “One more?”

Lance laughs at that, and he feels Shiro’s lips curve into a smile, but even that’s not quite enough to sway him. “Moonrise is in, like, ten minutes, bud.”

“I can make it quick.”

Snorting softly, Lance shakes his head. “Are you kidding? I want you for longer than that.”

Shiro groans at that, his hips pressing forward, already half hard again. Lance shakes his head and wriggles off of Shiro’s cock, snickering at the put-out sound his boyfriend buries in his shoulder. He doesn’t move away, though, choosing instead to let Shiro cling to him for now, while he still has him.

Soon, Shiro will pull away, and he’ll sneak out into the thin woods behind their apartment building, and when the full moon reaches its zenith, the wolf will take him.

He’ll turn, his already imposing form growing impossibly larger, pale, scarred skin buried in thick white fur, and he’ll spend the night running, darting between trees and chasing chipmunks and starting howls just to mess with the coyotes. He’ll run until the wolf is exhausted, until he slinks back up the stairs and into the apartment, where he’ll climb into bed without even wiping the mud off his damn paws, and he’ll wrap himself around Lance like a huge, furry blanket to sleep for the last hour or two until dawn breaks.

Someday soon, Lance tells himself, they’ll have their own stretch of woods. Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere they can run together under the brilliant light of the full moon, and a house with some oversized doggy beds they can share.

Until then, Lance will take what he can get, even if it means big clumps of forest loam in his bed come morning, because as long as it’s Shiro, Lance is okay with it.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr](http://avoidingavoidance.tumblr.com) and a [twittr](http://twitter.com/gaarbage)


End file.
